


Living Corpses

by Nui (Nuiihren)



Series: Curse of Strahd Shorts Collection [13]
Category: Curse of Strahd - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Multi, sasha's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuiihren/pseuds/Nui
Summary: It's time again: A new group of adventurers has come to Barovia and the vampires of Ravenloft gather to take a look at them before they arrive to dinner! Some fun and excitement for all, except Sasha who's long lost any ability to enjoy the repetitive cycle of her life by Strahd's side.
Relationships: Sasha/Depression, Strahd von Zarovich/Harem
Series: Curse of Strahd Shorts Collection [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031067
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Living Corpses

**Author's Note:**

> The group of adventurers is, of course, our lovely band of misfits (who did actually enjoy a lovely dinner in Ravenloft), and this is what they look like: https://twitter.com/FoxdaOops/status/1329458826593046535

The walking corpses looked tiny through the crystal ball. And, though somewhat tense and hectic, still much too unaware of their approaching demise.

“Can’t you draw closer? Some of us actually want to see the faces,” Ludmil complained and Anastrasya rolled her eyes.

Strahd’s voice spoke, asking for the same thing, and this time, immediately, she answered in a high-pitched: “Of course, darling!”, changing the angle.

In the picture, the corpses-to-be were busying themselves with fairly mundane tasks. One of them was tiny even up close - the child. Sasha grimaced slightly. Here was to hoping this one would indeed become a corpse, fast and painless, and not a little vampire. It looked maybe five and was laughing loudly.

“There’re more of them than I thought?” said Ludmil. “Wait, isn’t that the Baron’s wife?”

“It is!” Anastrasya confirmed with mean-spirited delight. “My, she aged poorly!”

“To be fair, she’s not known for doing anything well… is she?”

They both laughed. Strahd threw in some joking remark about the Vallakovich family.

“What about the one-armed man?”

That one, Strahd explained, they picked up in Vallaki as well, but, surprisingly, he turned out to be the brother to the rather handsome boy who was, as of now, speaking to him in a hushed voice. Sasha couldn’t quite hear the words over everyone’s talking, but a desperate, almost begging expression twisted his face.

“That one’s pretty,” Ludmil said, “and the girl over there. Oh, and the elf. Always nice to see a different elf… no offense, Rahadin, but you’re not the best example of elven elegance.”

If Rahadin took offense, he kept it to himself. Likely in case he’d be allowed to cut off Ludmil’s head at some later point.

“It's a shame not more of them aren't human,” Volenta interjected pompously, "I'd like the taste of exotic blood."

“The old woman… is she one of them?”

Strahd nodded affirmatively.

“Oh. Well… and that child, too? Really?”

“They made such a mess of the place,” Escher noted, “doesn’t look anything like I remember.”

Strahd added something again. Unimportant.

“Oh, I forget you’ve been there,” Anastrasya said.

“Yes, once, before we got thrown out of Vallaki for good… but it wasn’t a shop back then. Wait, did they… burn something there?”

Again, Strahd spoke and everyone, but Sasha and Rahadin, laughed. Then his voice picked up once more, flowing slower and calmer this time, in a rhythm of a monologue.

Listening without hearing wasn't hard to begin with, but over the long monotonous decades of her un-life Sasha had perfected it to an art form. It was the difference between shutting out the world completely and shutting out only one person, while still noticing when they said something important. Strahd's voice washed over her, ebbing and flooding around her ears in an indistinct hum. A gratingly pleased tone was all that she perceived - the one he wore when things went his way. The subject, meanwhile, was not much cause for excitement. Another band of outsiders had come. Another group of corpses. They were to have dinner in the castle tonight and then, if they made it that long without turning into dinner themselves, there would be a ball. Sasha would have to organise it. He hadn't reached that part yet, but another half an hour of meandering and he’d get to it. Sasha didn't see why she'd be required to come in and listen to him talk otherwise. The man loved only an impressionable audience, which she'd ceased to be well over a century ago.

She pondered that, absent-mindedly, as the figures of lively corpses rushed in and out of the frame. The older woman noticed some stain on her dress and, lips pressed together in a line, began to rub on the fabric in frantic motions. The elf was pacing up and down the room, arguing about something with the bouncy child, when the woman chimed in and they started to argue as well. The boy began singing softly, fingers playing distracted chords on his lyre, then stopping and picking up in a different place. The girl sat down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder, fingers in his hair, and the one-armed boy, his brother, came in to observe him in sulky confusion. Seeing their bustling disquieted Sasha somehow.

Strahd’s voice was swelling as she watched, about to say something informative, finally. She tried to call forth the feeling from a time where she thought his words sophisticated and smart or even from when he could get a rise out of her with a cruel remark. She dug for the memories, trying to provoke any kind or reaction within. Disgust, anger, regret. Searching for the old wounds to press. But it gave her nothing, to little surprise - that nerve dead like anything else. Indulging in self-hatred truly had as much of an expiration date as indulging in self-love. Unless one was as egotistic as her _lord and husband_ , that is. He never seemed to wear out his repetitive emotions.

Her gaze drifted over the room where they'd gathered. A small sitting space, walls lined with shelves of jars, books and colored stones. And candles. Entirely too many of them to be practical. Anastrasya's idea of witchy decorations. Her crystal ball was placed on the table between them, everyone looking at it with curiosity. It had been a while since she last saw them all together like this. Was it after the wizard’s uprising? Yes, probably. Volenta sat perched on the armrest of Strahd’s chair, a ridiculous bone mask even worse than her last covering her face. A truly annoying thing, that she was, obscene pretense and delusion dressed up in white frills. So obsessed with death, yet still not quite caught up on the fact of her own. Sasha had avoided her company almost entirely in the years since her turning, which had been… how long? A decade? Making her barely more than a child.

“My love,” Volenta said wispily at that moment, her delicate fingers digging into Strahd’s arm, “during the ball… would you give me the first dance?”

He turned his head to her briefly, face blank and indifferent. Sasha saw what would follow before he opened his mouth. For some reason, knowing it made her actually listen.

“No,” he said in an entirely casual tone, “my first dance belongs to Ireena.”

The girl kept her composure for the moment - the mask doubtlessly helped - but her shoulders fell in hurt disappointment. Not even smart enough to recognize that his dismissiveness was calculated. Much less that he took joy in it. Sasha watched a small unsympathetic smile pass over Ludmil’s face. Escher, looking uncomfortable, murmured something into his ear and the Vistani smiled even more. Anastrasya, positioned on Strahd’s right, demeanor almost queenly since the room counted as “her realm”, didn’t even grant it a reaction. And Rahadin, of course, remained unchanged standing behind his seat.

“Speaking of which,” Strahd continued, looking directly at Sasha for the first time since the start of the meeting. For the first time in at least a year, too. “Would you be so kind to see to Lady Ireena’s attire? I’d like…”

She nodded and tuned him out again to a steady hum, careful for her eyes to keep a look of focused interest. She knew well enough what gown he liked on his red-heads. Predictable as ever, especially in that. Listening was, truly, a waste of time even when she had endless time to waste.

The corpses still moved in her periphery, the child now crawling into the older woman’s lap. Vaguely she wondered if they make it past dinner.


End file.
